


QI, Series J: Jeremy, Jocularity and Just What the Hell Is Going On Here?

by BourbonNeat



Category: QI RPF, Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Crossover, Episode-centric, M/M, QI Series J
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 17:55:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1753551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BourbonNeat/pseuds/BourbonNeat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeremy enjoys filming his latest appearance on QI immensely, but the conversation after the cameras stop rolling turns out to be quite a bit more interesting than anything written on Stephen’s cards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	QI, Series J: Jeremy, Jocularity and Just What the Hell Is Going On Here?

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is fiction. It never happened and is not meant to imply anything about the people featured in the story. Complete unreality from a fanciful mind.

“Anyway, so let’s move on to something very, very different.” Stephen Fry rubbed his hands together in conclusion, smiling in anticipation as he smoothly transitioned that episode’s QI guests onto their next topic. “Name something interesting you can do with a slinky.”

One voice rang out clear among the ‘wells’ and murmurs, accent tinged with a little more northern than he usually allowed to creep in on his own show.

“ _Well_ , you can’t untangle it,” said Jeremy Clarkson, as always playing the extremely bright student prone to disrupting the rest of the class in response to Stephen’s own wise professor persona.

And, much like a somewhat indulgent professor who could not help being amused by his student’s wit and cheek time and again, Stephen found himself smiling warmly as he was instantly drawn into the conversation. Fortunately, this being QI, the whole show functioned best with at least one such clever brat to balance out Alan Davies’ class clown persona, often even better with two.

“That’s certainly…,” Stephen chuckled, vividly remembering Gordian knots appearing, as if by magic, in flimsy loops of metal. “Oh god, I got through so many as a child.”

Warming to his subject at least as much as to the attention, Jeremy rushed to continue the observation, stumbling over his words a bit as he tried to simultaneously convey the situation to the younger guests with his hands. “They are – they are the most – it was the _most_ … You’d get to the top of the stairs and ‘look at this, oh no!’” He mimicked his childhood self, voice rising in pitch at the end before returning to its usual warm baritone. “And that would be it.”

Stephen laughed, both at the similar memories evoked by Jeremy’s recollections and at the fact that he couldn’t have asked to be fed a more perfect transition if he’d written the man a script.

“We’ve given you some stairs in fact,” Stephen said, without missing a beat. “You can take your stairs and your slinky out. There may be some young people in the audience who’ve never…”

The rest of his speech was swiftly drowned out by the sounds of instantaneous regression as three somewhat dignified QI guests and Alan began playing with their slinkys on the stairs like small children. Clearly, this segment was going to be a success in the final cut. The level of enthusiasm was as unexpected as it was delightful and soon Stephen was drawn in as well, amused by Sandi Toksvig’s competitive zeal and charmed by Jeremy’s exclamations of childlike glee. For someone with such a notorious – and not entirely undeserved – reputation for abrasive and insulting behavior, his old friend could be genuinely adorable when one least expected it. And Alan, oh dear. Alan’s complete inability to make a slinky work was the perfect final touch. So perfect, in fact, that if Stephen hadn’t known that endearingly befuddled look for the sincere expression that it was, he might have thought Alan had planned the entire situation with his usual gift for timing. 

Eventually Stephen reigned in the schoolyard chaos with a video demonstrating the peculiar effect occurring whenever someone dropped a slinky.

“…Watch the bottom of the slinky as we capture the effect with a very high speed camera. The bottom is completely still. Isn’t that amazing?” Stephen had seen it before, of course, but intriguing scientific oddities never failed to draw his attention, much like bright, shiny objects for a magpie. “That is a really bizarre effect and they can’t really explain why that happens…”

“Oh, I bet James May could,” Jeremy piped up, surprising Stephen into laughter with his interruption. “Well you see, the thing is…” he continued in a spot on May impression, drawing even more laughter from the guests and the audience before shaking his head in his hands and concluding, “ _oh_ god,” in a tone that spoke of long suffering.

Stephen took one look at the expression on Clarkson’s face and began laughing even harder, much more so than the impression, apt and well-timed though it had been, actually deserved. He just couldn’t help himself, _this_ was absolutely priceless.

 

*** * * * ***

Filming QI was always a brilliant lark, and Jeremy would have happily turned up as many times each series as Stephen and his schedule would allow, even if Francie, who continued on as his manager, hadn’t proven to him time and again how important it was to his various projects to keep his face and his commentary in the public eye. Tonight’s show had been especially fun. He simply could not remember laughing harder or taking part in a more innuendo laden episode before and, honestly, when it came to QI, that was really saying something.

Catching Stephen alone in a relatively quiet corner at the wrap party some twenty minutes later, Jeremy related this assessment with a hearty clap on the back, and thanked the man again for continuing to include him in such a fun project.

“Yes, well, I just knew if we brought you three troublemakers together with Alan, misbehavior would abound. And you certainly didn't disappoint me," Stephen said with the delighted grin of the professional storyteller who knows he's just succeeded in making great telly.

Jeremy returned the smile and tipped his wine glass slightly in a subtle toast. He knew the mix of pleasure, pride and relief, as well as the intense creative high that went with that smile. Knew them quite well, in fact. 

"I must say, I'm pleased you were able to hang around for the wrap party,” Stephen continued after pausing to enjoy a sip from his own glass. “I thought for sure you'd be dashing off somewhere daft the second the cameras stopped rolling. Your lot has been filming all over the place this month."

“No, as it happens I have the evening off,” Jeremy said as if he scarcely believed it himself, a reaction he was only exaggerating slightly for effect. “In fact, I actually seem to have a few weeks in London with no filming and no live shows.” He smiled conspiratorially, allowing his eyes to drift briefly around the room as if checking for eavesdroppers. “I’d thank Andy, but I’m too afraid to draw his attention to it.”

Stephen grinned. “I understand what you mean. Now that we’ve wrapped filming on this series, I have an entire week off and no idea what to do with myself…” He trailed off and switched gears as a new idea took shape, suddenly looking so pleased with himself that Jeremy’s smile turned into a rumbling chuckle in response. “Actually, I’m having a few friends over for dinner this weekend to celebrate finding ourselves all in similar straits. Alan and Mrs. Davies will be there, Carr, a few others you know. Some of the usual rogue’s gallery. You should come.”

Jeremy accepted immediately. An evening at Stephen's generally meant lively, eccentric company and the sort of rambling, witty banter that he lived for.

"Oh, and please, feel free to bring someone. If you feel so inclined," Stephen added, putting a subtle emphasis on the ‘someone’ that still managed to speak volumes.

Fry’s tone may have been casual, but his smile was precisely the opposite. Certain that the only direction this could possibly be headed was an attempt to set him up with someone – ‘Not seeing anyone? _Such_ a pity. But I happen to have this lovely friend and she’d be absolutely perfect for you.’ – Jeremy tried his best to extricate himself from an undesirable and potentially uncomfortable conversation by mumbling something polite and noncommittal about needing to check schedules.

“Oh good, well I do hope it works out,” Stephen positively beamed. “It's been ages since I've talked to James and I can’t wait to ask him about…”

The rest of Stephen’s words – something about meccano and motorcycles – were lost, fading under the deafening sound of Jeremy’s heart thudding in his ears as he tried desperately to remember how to pick his jaw up off the floor and make it form words that were not only coherent but also in his normal vocal register.

“I…,” he sputtered. “I’m sorry, who?” _Nicely recovered Jeremy,_ he berated himself the second the words left his mouth, shaking his head in exasperation. _Yes, very smooth indeed_.

Stephen, of course, was having none of it. “You heard me perfectly well and, if your sheet-like complexion is any indication, you know damn well that I’m aware of that,” he said in his infuriatingly calm and knowing professor’s voice, a teasing grin across his face. “James. You know, about six feet tall, stunning blue eyes, long legs and a devastating wit.” He paused to take another sip from his glass, enjoying the spectacle of Jeremy struggling to marshal his features. “I understand you’ve been working with him for the last decade or so.”

Stephen knew he was being more than a bit evil at this point, but he really couldn't help himself; it was just so much fun. Jeremy was a good mate, and underneath all of that infamous Clarkson bluster lurked a man with a surprisingly soft center who could, at times, be as easily embarrassed as Stephen himself. Whenever he saw the telltale signs of a thoroughly flustered Jeremy, he just couldn't resist poking at him a bit, very much like the last time he'd been on Top Gear and taken such perverse pleasure in surprising Jeremy with the Grindr app… _Hmmm, come to think of it, there'd been a clue in there somewhere. Or five._

Jeremy cast nervous eyes about the room, confirming that they were still alone and well out of everyone’s earshot in their corner of the room. “I – How did you…?” He had succeeded in bringing his voice down to the proper pitch, but eloquence was still a long way off.

Stephen chuckled warmly and threw a matey arm around Jeremy’s shoulders, both in an attempt to take the edge off the shock and to angle his still surprised expression away from the rest of the party. “Come on Jezza, I know you too well. You were a miserable git for years after the divorce. Now, this year, you’re happier than I’ve ever seen you, you practically glow every time someone mentions him, and you drop his name into every conversation and column you can like some sort of giddy teenager.”

By the time he reached the end, Stephen was fully engaged in lecture mode, Professor Fry outlining his latest theories with irrefutable logic. Not that that prevented Jeremy from attempting to contradict them with logic that was far more Clarkson than concrete.

“Well, yes Stephen,” he explained with an expression that suggested extreme patience in the face of tryingly poor logic. “But only to say that he's a pedantic moron and the slowest man on Earth, just as I've always done.”

“Indeed you have,” Stephen replied with mock sympathy before breaking out in a broad grin again – this really was more fun than it should be. “And I daresay it's been the most pathetically blokey display of middle-aged pigtail pulling that I've ever seen.”

“I - But...”

“Besides, it’s gotten much worse lately.”

“Worse?” Jeremy inquired hopelessly, his voice squeaking a bit at the end again.

“Oh yes,” Stephen said with another comforting pat on the shoulder. “You should have seen the look on your face today when you started doing that impression. Revoltingly in love, dear boy, and I couldn’t be happier for you.”

Jeremy sagged a bit in resignation and what he thought might just feel a little bit like relief. “I – Well…” _How to even begin?_ “It’s possible we might have…once or twice – I mean, perhaps we’ve been...”

But as Jeremy stumbled his way around the most minimal confession he thought he could escape this conversation with, Stephen just kept looking at him with that incredulous eyebrow rising ever higher and that amused, knowing smirk growing broader. Jeremy hadn't felt this much like a school boy caught with a flimsy excuse before a respected head master in...well, ever.

“All right, all right. Stop looking so much like a damned Cheshire Cat,” Jeremy said, somehow managing to sound concerned, defensive and relieved all at the same time. “Yes. James and I – we’ve been...well...we _have_ been for about a year now. It has no business working on any level _ever_ and he drives me completely and utterly mad. But somehow he’s…well it’s absolutely bloody perfect, actually, and I’m happy.”

It wasn’t as if they were keeping their relationship completely secret. He and James had both told their families, as well as Richard and Andy, which was the same thing really. Most of the Top Gear crew either knew or guessed, especially after filming their race in New Zealand a few months back. Both private people by nature, they were widening the circle of friends who knew very slowly and Jeremy couldn’t help but feel torn about this. He wanted the people who mattered to him – and Stephen was definitely in that number – to know but, at the same time, he was afraid of fucking everything up and accidentally calling unwanted attention to their relationship. With a relaxed sigh, Jeremy realized that, yes, that definitely was relief he felt, relief and more than a bit of pleasure at finally sharing his good news with a friend.

Stephen, by nature at least as tactile a creature as Jeremy, swept the other man into a tight hug, giving his shoulder an extra, congratulatory squeeze as he let him go. “Good man. It's about time.”

“Been that obvious then, has it?” Jeremy chuckled, ducking his head almost bashfully.

“For _years_ ,” Stephen teased. “But only, as I've said, to people who know you well.” He let that sink in for a moment before continuing, amused by the slight flush deepening across Jeremy’s cheeks. _Was this how Alan felt every time he managed to get_ him _to blush and stammer?_ If so, Stephen was beginning to understand the appeal. “So, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, will we have the pleasure of Mr. May’s company as well?”

Jeremy opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again, uncharacteristically considering his next words with care. “I’m not sure. Possibly. I’ll need to talk to James. That would be a rather large step…,” he paused for a moment, flashing his cheekiest smirk, “…for your guests too, really.”

Stephen rocked with laughter as he considered his other guests and their reactions. They all knew Jeremy quite well and James to varying degrees. “I understand,” he said when he’d recovered somewhat. “This is new for you and I daresay your man is one of the most private people I know.” Jeremy nodded in agreement. “But, should you both choose to attend, you know who’ll be there and you know they’re a bunch of loveable, irreverent arses who disdain the gutter press. They wouldn’t be invited to mine otherwise.”

Jeremy smiled. This was true. He knew everyone who was likely to be there and knew them well. Snarky, opinionated, loudmouths, the lot of them. His kind of people, really, and far too honorable to be taking surreptitious photos or talking to the press. “Still, I’m sure we’d raise a few eyebrows.”

“Oh, you're sure to raise more than a few eyebrows,” Stephen said wryly. “But the last time I checked, _you_ at least practically live for that.” Jeremy’s smile went from cheeky to smug in response. “Yes, you’ll raise a few eyebrows and settle at least one bet that I’m aware of…” Stephen trailed off provocatively waiting for the reaction that was sure to come.

He didn’t have to wait long. Jeremy coughed and sputtered, nearly spitting his wine in his surprise. “Carr or Davies?” He finally managed, voice still rough from his accidental attempt at breathing through alcohol.

Stephen briefly appeared to consider Jeremy’s request, an appearance entirely belied by eyes twinkling with mischief. “It simply wouldn’t be fair for you to know until both parties reveal themselves, Jeremy. And I suspect they will quite spectacularly. No, there’s nothing else for it. You and James will simply have to attend.”

Jeremy had to laugh. He knew exactly what Stephen was doing, but damned if it wasn’t working. Far from nervous, he was now more than a bit eager to come out as a couple, if only to this very small degree and among friends. However, it was about far more than raising eyebrows and mocking whoever it was who’d been placing bets – and one of them had to be Jimmy Carr, he was certain of it. Jeremy was no more inclined to shout his personal business from the rooftops than James was, and he would rather add a piano-less Morris Marina to his car collection than discuss the details of their relationship with anyone, but he was proud of this, proud of James, and he wanted anyone who knew him well to know that. Besides, if he were honest, it would be bloody lovely to finally go someplace where he could throw an arm around James' shoulders from time to time without bothering to calculate if the number of seconds he let it linger exceeded matey propriety or not.

“You do make it all sound quite irresistible,” Jeremy chuckled warmly. “Annoying know-it-all bastard.”

Stephen bowed slightly in response with a smug grin on his face, guilty as charged.

“I’ll speak with James and let you know.” Naturally, Jeremy was well aware of James’ schedule these days – they were practically living together after all – but he wasn’t about to make this decision for them without asking. His reputation for thoughtless blundering – albeit often with good intentions – might not be entirely undeserved, but it was important to him to get this right.   

“Splendid,” said Stephen, with genuine pleasure. “I look forward to seeing you then, and I hope to see your man this weekend as well.”

Jeremy smiled blissfully as he enjoyed the last sips of his wine. _Your man._ That was the second time Stephen had said that and Jeremy decided that even if it made him a little wet, he really did like the sound of acknowledgement rolling off the tongue of a good friend.

 


End file.
